


Growing Up Evil

by Shi_Toyu



Series: Sherlock Character Studies [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Jim was an adorable kid, JimCentric, Kid Jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2766344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu/pseuds/Shi_Toyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty wasn't born Jim Moriarty. He was born James, called Jimmy by his mum. No, it was those around him who turned James into what he would eventually become. It's scary, really, how easily it could have happened to anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Up Evil

Jim Moriarty was the most feared man in London, even the world. He had fingers in just about every criminal pie there was. He was the world's only consulting criminal and the only one able to play with Sherlock Holmes. He controlled everything.

But Jim Moriarty wasn't born Jim Moriarty. He didn't pop out of the womb a criminal mastermind. He was born James Moriarty, called Jimmy by his mum. He was a normal kid, albeit a very smart one. When he was 5 he scraped his knee while playing in the park and cried until his mother put a band aid on it. His favorite part of a trip to the doctor's office was the lollipop, and he couldn't fall asleep without his fluffy bunny stuffed animal.

His father wasn't in the picture, always away at work, but his mother had been there constantly. She lived for her son. He didn't go to day care because she was there to take care of him. Those days were tinted rosy and warm.

Then he'd turned 6 and went to school. As it turned out, other kids didn't take too kindly to those who were different. It started off with him always being the last picked for group activities. There was teasing in the classroom, name calling and other little things. James would return home in tears almost every day. His mother would wrap him up in her arms and sing to him, creating a safe haven.

As the weeks and then months went by, the kids at school got worse and worse. Teasing banter turned to cruel pranks and shoves. Scrapes and bruises littered his frame. His mother worried. She called the school and went into talk to teachers and administrators, but no one could do anything. If anything, the attention paid to him by the teachers made him even more of a target for his peers.

These interactions taught James valuable lessons that he would use for the rest of his life. He learned that showing weakness only encouraged the vultures. If he cried, it only encouraged their behavior. But he also learned how to hide. He learned how to smile and fake an interest in something that bored him to death, just because the bullies wouldn't taunt him for it. He learned how to blend in instead of trying to be invisible. People noticed the absence of something, but they rarely questioned what was there but simply part of the background.

When James was 9 his mother died, and his life as Jimmy along with her. Her funeral was the first time he'd seen his father in a month and the last time he would see the man for several weeks. A nanny had been hired to see to his needs, but she was an oafish woman who hardly spoke any English and was quicker with a wooden spatula than a hug. The bruises didn't just come from school anymore.

When his father was home, he wanted nothing to do with his son. He either holed himself up in his study to work or he holed himself up in his study to drink. The few times he interacted with James were filled with spiteful glares and painful memories of a wife gone. Even at his young age, James knew that his father no longer wanted him, if he ever had.

As always when tragedy strikes, the vultures began to circle. At school, he was no longer just the weird, smart kid. He became the orphan, the unwanted. Just as his mother had left him in death, those who afforded him even the basest of courtesies left him in life. No one talked to him without a harsh word. Teachers wanted to know why he was so withdrawn, but gave up quickly because there was no longer someone bothering them to pay attention, and the other students wanted nothing to do with him.

Being ignored became something he resented. His father ignored him. His teachers ignored him. His classmates ignored him. There was not a soul in the world that cared whether James Moriarty existed or not. He was completely and utterly alone.

Except, of course, when someone did decide to pay attention to him. Then things became even worse. Carl Powers was a year older than James, held back not because he couldn't do the work, but because he simply didn't. Still, Carl was popular. He had an easy smile and was always quick with a joke, making him instantly likable. The problem was that, more often than not, that joke was at James's expense.

He led the charge against the younger boy, growing more and more ruthless by the day. The other children followed him because of his charisma, but also because siding with James got them on Carl's bad side. Only one person had ever stood up for James after his mother passed away. She'd been new, a pretty blonde, but she didn't know how things worked. Her parents pulled her out of the school within a month.

Maybe if his father had been home enough to notice his son's bruising, he would have pulled James out of that wretched, terrible Hell hole, too. The young brunette refused to think that perhaps his father did notice, and just didn't care. His nanny noticed plenty, though, and every time he came home with a new bruise or scratch he'd be punished for fighting. It was during these years that James learned the finer points of how to hurt another human being.

He resented everyone around him. He hated them. They were pathetic, mindless sheep who simply followed the role set out by their brutish leader. James knew that the precedent had been set for far too long for him to be able to turn things around where he was…at least not as long as Carl was in the picture.

When James was 11, and Carl 13, because that's how their birthdays feel, Carl was already a star on the school's swim team. That year he was able to go to an event in London. It was over a break, and James knew that no one would be looking for him. He took some of the money from the safe in his father's office and followed Carl's family to London.

He put to use all of the skills his bullies had taught him about blending in and winning people over. He used the same easy smile as Carl always did, having practiced it for hours in his mirror hoping it would finally get him some friends…maybe even just one. The woman at the ticket counter had been his biggest challenge, since he was a minor trying to buy his own ticket for the train.

It seemed Carl had done him one favor, though, because the woman took one look at his bruises and told him she never saw him. He'd thanked her, awed by her generosity, and told her his name was James. She said it was a lovely name; her brother was named James but always went by Jim. He liked that.

That would be the last kindness ever paid to James Moriarty that he didn't manipulate out of the other person. It was also the moment that he gave up being James and truly became Jim. James was soft, but Jim was strong. He had what it took to do what needed to be done.

Jim got on that train, followed Carl Powers to London and then to the pool, and he killed him. The now-murderer used a bacterium he'd cultured in the school's chemistry lab, and paid dearly for when he'd arrived home late. He took the other boy's shoes as a trophy. They were Carl's prized possessions, and now they were Jim's.

Look who's laughing now.

The nanny freaked out when the boy returned after being gone for three days. His father was on a business trip, again, and she hadn't yet alerted the authorities. He knew she wouldn't. She went for the wooden spatula, but she wasn't dealing with James anymore, and Jim wasn't going to lie down and take it anymore. She resigned a week later.

The news of Carl's tragic death traveled quickly, but, as with most kids that age, the school as a whole quickly moved on. Within a month, Carl was like a distant memory. Jim was shark swimming in a tank of fish who didn't even know there was blood in the water, blood that Jim had spilt himself.

Jim knew that he would never be the one to get the spotlight. There was too much of a history of these kids bullying him. He could never become a part of their circle, much less the center of it. That was okay, though, because Jim didn't want to be. He hated these kids. He wanted to make them pay.

It started with rumors, like about how Jessica had kissed Kim's boyfriend. Then he began planting ideas in their heads, via a comment made in passing or simply through what appeared to be an unrelated topic. It didn't take long before they were turning against each other, without him having to do any of the work. He reveled in watching their petty friendships turn to bitter rivalries.

As a newly-turned teenager, Jim Moriarty began to realize the value of information. He also began to realize that having extra cash might not be such a bad idea. He'd always been one for planning ahead and the coming years called for cars and those designer clothes he'd become so fond of while trying to fit in. He knew his father wouldn't be interested in footing the bill. Jim had long ago figured out that his father would be turning him loose the moment he turned 18. It didn't bother him. He couldn't wait to be free of the old man. The house was nice, though. He'd hate to lose it.

He began with the low-level delinquents, just to get a feel for things. He drew up a business plan for David, who sold weed to the other kids, that doubled the boy's profits…for 10% of the revenue. The entire thing took place over the internet, first through a chat room he'd known the dealer would be on, and then with the money going into an account he'd set up with his father's name. Then David recommended Jim to the guy who brought David his product.

Jim wasn't dealing with kids anymore, and the thrill was exhilarating. Things didn't always go according to plan, especially not in the beginning, but Jim always came out on top. He made sure of it. More and more people started coming to him through the chat room, where he was known only as M. He wouldn't use the name Moriarty for business until much later, when he had wiped all traces of his previous life from existence.

Then one of the dealers he worked with came to him with a problem. There was another guy moving in on his turf and things were messy. He needed to get rid of him, but couldn't afford getting caught again by the cops. Jim told him that for 10,000 quid, he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. The dealer paid and Jim set him up with a woman he'd been talking to who wanted her ex-boyfriend beaten for cheating on her. She paid Jim 5,000. They lived in two different towns, an hour apart. He left them with a simple note.

You take mine, and I'll take yours.

Neither case was ever solved, but Jim knew that it was a risk he couldn't afford to take. It was too easy to find him on the chat room. It didn't take much to find a computer geek in need of a favor and Jim was only too happy to help him with his bullying problem. From then on, Jim was operating on a secure server. It wasn't perfect, but he would improve it over time.

He reorganized his structure. No longer could people come to him, that meant they knew how to find him. He would go to them instead. The only contact anyone would have with M was if M contacted them first. He moved the account in his father's name to an off shore account in his own, at 16 he was finally old enough.

When Jim's school held a career fair, he realized that he didn't know what he wanted to do with this life. He'd always been so focused on his little project that he'd never focused on what he might do after it was all over. Later that night, as he typed up a correspondence to a man in Brussels about the money he was laundering from his own company, Jim realized that there was no after. He'd laughed aloud at the thought that his calling was to help people.

Consulting was, after all, a form of helping, even if it was for criminals.

As Jim had expected, his father kicked him out as soon as he hit the legal age. Jim, ever the practical young man, picked up his business and moved to the city he felt most connected to, London. His clients grew more illustrious, his fees higher, and his network more complex. Unfortunately, this was around the time that Jim learned that he couldn't do everything himself.

He began hiring hit men and ex-military types, all the better for keeping his clients in line. He began forging a reputation for himself as being utterly ruthless. A rumor began to spread that he'd killed one man's entire family, all the way out to this 4th cousins, because he wouldn't pay up when the time came. Jim knew all about rumors.

His father died of entire natural causes when Jim was 24. The old man's liver gave out after all that drinking. Jim was devastated. He'd had such a nice murder planned for him, too. It really was a waste, but at least he had that house back. He also inherited his father's substantial fortune. While he hadn't made a lot of money in his life, he was almost neurotic about saving it. Jim made more than his entire inheritance in less than six months.

Still, his father's death gave Jim the perfect opportunity to erase everything about that boy who'd been picked on for so many years. He swept clean every record there was, from doctors to schools to magazine subscriptions. Finally, Jim Moriarty could become real, all by himself.

As the years passed, Moriarty felt a twinge of what could possibly be loneliness, which was a ridiculous concept. He'd been alone his entire life, since his mother's death. Why in the world would he begin to feel lonely now? It didn't make any sense. The fact remained, though, that loneliness was what he felt. And so, Jim began his search for a playmate.

It was through this search that he came across an individual who matched him perfectly. He was brilliant and stunning, a blinking light to Jim's pitch black darkness. They'd even gotten started with the same case. Maybe Carl Powers had done him two favors…

Sherlock Holmes was practically a gift, after all, right along with Doctor John Watson. Oh, they would make life so interesting. Jim couldn't wait to meet them.


End file.
